by Elise Broach
“Are those roads?” he asked Delilah, pointing to a few thin lines.
She peered at them. “I don’t think so. I think those are creeks—see how wavy they are?”
Henry looked more closely. “Then these must be peaks,” he said, “for the mountain?” He traced the points that encircled the map, and then ran his finger along one of the channels through the middle of it. “What’s this?”
“It must be a canyon,” Delilah said. “Because look, there’s a creek in the middle of it. And these are trees.” She pointed to small, spiky lines all along the creek. “Hey…” She lifted the map gently into the air, and turned it. “I think this is our canyon, Henry, the one we’re sitting in right now! Look at the way the creek bed zigzags … and this ledge on the map, it might be the ledge with the skulls.”
“You think it’s the same one?” Henry asked. “There are so many canyons here. How can we tell?” His gaze swept the uneven ground, the brown walls of rock that jutted in from either side. There were so many nooks and crannies, and the shrubs made it hard to see the contours of the gorge.
Delilah brushed stones and twigs aside to clear a small place on the ground, where she spread the map flat. “If we put it like this—look at the drawing—does it fit the way the creek bed turns?” she asked.
Henry nodded slowly. “But what’s this on the side? It looks like another little canyon.” Delilah squinted at the map, then scanned the wall of rock behind them, in the opposite direction from where Henry had searched for the compass. “If it is, it would be right over there, around those rocks. Go have a look, Henry. Maybe another canyon connects to this one.”
Henry scrambled to his feet and ran the short distance to the outcropping of rock. It looked like the rest of the canyon wall, craggy and creviced, and he was about to turn away in disappointment when he realized that there, behind it, almost obscured by boulders, was a narrow channel.
“Hey!” he yelled to Delilah. “There’s an opening.”
He edged sideways between the sharp rocks, picking his way between the steep walls, thinking that at any moment the inlet would end in rock. But it didn’t. A thin dirt path twisted along, and Henry felt a growing thrill of excitement. This must be how it was for Uncle Hank, he thought—during his days as a cavalry scout, when he set off for uncharted territory, exploring someplace nobody had been before. This was how it felt to discover something new. Henry realized he didn’t feel scared at all. He felt eager, as if the mountain were nudging him along.
A minute later, the walls slanted away and the sky opened over his head. He found himself standing alone in a small, hidden canyon.
CHAPTER 26
“THE MOUNTAIN IS ALIVE…”
“HENRY? WHERE ARE YOU?” Delilah’s voice sounded faint and far away.
“I’m coming back,” he called. “It’s a little secret canyon. You would never know it was here.”
He ran quickly through the narrow passageway back into the ravine, where Delilah had apparently been dragging herself across the ground to follow him. She was panting and wincing in pain, still holding the map.
“What are you doing?” Henry protested. “You should have stayed where you were.”
“I didn’t know where you went,” Delilah said. She glanced up at the sky. “It’s going to be dark soon.”
“Yeah,” Henry said. He walked over to where she’d left their things. Gently he closed up the leather pouch of coins and tucked it in a side pocket of the backpack. Then he picked up the backpack and saddlebag and carried them to where Delilah was lying.
“Do you want something else to eat? More water?” he asked. He helped her lean against a rock. Her leg looked even more swollen now. The skin was turning darker.
Delilah clutched her leg, breathing heavily. “I’m not hungry,” she said. “Do you think they’ll be back soon?”
Henry nodded. “I bet they’re climbing up the mountain right now.”
“Good. I hope so.” She leaned her head against the rock and closed her eyes.
“Does it still hurt a lot?” Henry asked.
“Yeah.”
“Do you think it’s broken?”
“Probably.”
Since she didn’t seem to want to talk, he picked up a stick and began to poke the bushes. A rabbit sprang out from underneath one, making him jump. It darted off through the canyon, its white tail bobbing.
“What was that?” Delilah asked, opening her eyes.
“Just a rabbit,” Henry said. “I scared it with my stick.”
She stirred slightly. “So there’s a whole other canyon over there? Hidden behind the rocks?”
“Yeah, a secret canyon. It’s a lot smaller than this one.”
“Then this old map is right.”
Henry nodded. “I wonder who made it. I mean, were they soldiers, or explorers, or”—he hesitated—“maybe gold miners?”
“I know,” Delilah said, “I thought that too! What if it’s a map to a gold mine? But I was looking at it the whole time you were gone, and there’s no special mark or anything … nothing that looks like gold.”
Henry squatted on his heels, dragging his stick in the dirt, thinking about old maps and lost gold mines.
“Henry?” Delilah’s voice was soft.
“Yeah?”
“Do you hear that noise?”
“What?” Henry turned back. Her face looked pale and anxious in the dusk.
“That rustling noise.”
Henry listened for a minute, straining into the bluish quiet. He did hear something, a faint distant crackling, then silence.
“It’s probably another rabbit,” he said staunchly.
“It sounds bigger than a rabbit.”
“Maybe it’s a raccoon?” Henry tried to think of other animals that weren’t scary.
“It feels weird here … like the mountain is alive,” Delilah said haltingly.
“I know,” Henry said. “It really does feel that way up here.”
Delilah leaned forward a little, holding the map. “Can you put it away now? So nothing happens to it?”
Henry unzipped the side pocket of the backpack and was just placing the map inside when—boom!—there was a noise like a clap of thunder.
A piece of rock flew off the wall of the canyon several yards away from him, landing with a bang near his foot.
Delilah screamed.
Henry whirled around, looking in every direction, his heart thumping so hard in his chest he thought his rib cage would split open. He gazed at the cliffs on either side, at the seam of land where the woods ended and the canyon walls plummeted.
“What was that?” Delilah cried. “It sounded like a gun!”
“Shhh,” Henry whispered. “I think it was.”
How could that be? The canyon was dead silent again, but the air seemed to thrum with anticipation. Delilah was sitting up, leaning on one arm.
“Henry,” Delilah said softly, her voice filled with dread. “Do you remember what it said in Missing on Superstition Mountain? The list of people? Some of them were shot. What if somebody’s shooting at us?”
Henry couldn’t stop his legs from shaking. “Why would they do that?”
Delilah grabbed his arm. “Do you think they can see us? Do they know where we are?”
Henry met her panicked gaze. “I’m not sure.” He looked around, desperately scanning the top of the ravine.
“What should we do?” Delilah asked, her breathing quick and urgent.
Henry tried to think. “We shouldn’t stay in the open like this.” Simon would say they were sitting ducks. He pushed the saddlebag under the bushes where the rabbit had been. Hurriedly, he covered it with rocks and dirt till no trace was visible. Then he crouched next to Delilah, sliding the strap of the backpack over his shoulder. “If I help you, can you stand?”
“I don’t know,” Delilah said. “It hurts so much.”
“Listen,” he whispered. “We’ll go into the little canyon. Nobody will be able t
o see us there.”
“I don’t think I can move that far,” Delilah said.
“Yes, you can,” Henry told her. “I’ll help you.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll try.”
Delilah struggled onto one knee and began to crawl, dragging her hurt leg behind her, moaning softly. Henry took her arm and carefully helped her to her feet. She pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from crying out. Awkwardly, leaning against each other, they stumbled through the brush to the boulders that hid the entrance to the other canyon. Delilah’s face was covered in sweat. Henry knew it wasn’t from the heat.
“Are you okay?” he asked, as she limped into the narrow passageway. “Is your leg worse?”
“It’s worse when I move,” Delilah said hopelessly.
They continued a short distance, then leaned against the walls, listening to the silence.
“Henry, what’s going on? Why would someone be shooting at us?”
Henry swallowed. “I don’t know. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe somebody was hunting, and they thought they saw a deer.” He shook his head. “Maybe it wasn’t even a gunshot.”
Delilah looked at him doubtfully.
Now that the canyon was so quiet again, it was hard to imagine the shattering sound from before. Who could be up here shooting at them? It didn’t make any sense.
After a minute, she said, “I keep thinking about that list of dead people. The skulls with bullet holes in them.”
Henry nodded grimly.
“Say something,” Delilah whispered.
Henry took a breath. “Do you think this is what happened to Sara Delgado? Is this why she went crazy?”
They looked at each other in the gathering gloom. Delilah covered her face with her hands. “It’s almost dark! Where are Simon and Jack? What if they got lost?” She dropped her hands suddenly, stricken. “Or what if whoever’s shooting at us has been shooting at them too?”
Henry stiffened. “No,” he said, trying to make his voice steady, desperate to stop the tidal wave of fear. “They didn’t get lost. Simon is smart. Simon always knows what to do. He’ll come back, I promise.”
“You promised you’d find my compass, too,” Delilah said quietly.
There was nothing to say to that. Henry leaned back against the rock, watching the sky. It turned from gray to navy, the velvety color just before night.
And then it was dark. The canyon’s rocky walls had become nothing more than vague, blurred shapes. The night was full of noises: twigs crackling, leaves whispering against each other.
“Do you hear that?” Delilah kept asking.
“Yeah,” Henry would say.
“What do you think it is?”
“Just some animal, probably.”
The air had turned cooler. They moved back toward the entrance to the passageway so they could see into the canyon and sat against the boulders, huddled close to each other for warmth. Henry thought of all the people who had climbed Superstition Mountain looking for gold … and how many had never been seen again.
“What’s that?” Delilah hissed, grabbing his arm. She pointed into the darkness.
Henry gazed out, his eyes tracking the canyon floor. “What?”
Then he saw it: a dark shape moving low to the ground, skirting the bushes and trees.
CHAPTER 27
SOMETHING IN THE NIGHT
A CHILL RIPPLED through Henry. “It’s too small to be a person,” he whispered to Delilah.
They watched as the shape drew closer, darting and then stopping, shrouded by darkness.
“What could it be?” Delilah whispered.
“I don’t know,” Henry said, “but it’s coming closer.”
Suddenly the black shape streaked toward them, and Henry saw two glowing golden eyes.
Delilah gasped.
“Oh!” Henry cried. “It’s JOSIE.”
Josie trotted up to the boulder and wove between Henry’s legs, her tail twitching.
“Josie!” Delilah cried, scooping her up and hugging her.
Josie purred tolerantly.
“How’d you get here?” Henry asked, collapsing against the rock in relief. Josie was no protection at all, he knew that. But she was also never, never afraid. He scratched the flat part of her head as she gazed calmly into the darkness.
Just then, distantly, Henry heard dogs barking. Dogs and voices, a faint but unmistakable scuffle of activity in the woods above the canyon.
“Henry!” It was his father’s voice, echoing over the gorge.
“We’re here!” Henry shouted, leaping to his feet. “Down here!”
Delilah’s face split wide in a grin. “Josie must have followed them.”
Or led them, Henry was thinking. Josie never followed anyone.
“Here!” Henry yelled again, waving his arms.
He could see the dim beams of flashlights on the cliff above and dark figures gathering there. Two dogs were straining and barking. Josie’s ears flattened with disapproval.
“We see you, Henry!” his father called. “Is Delilah with you?”
“Yes, she’s here,” Henry answered.
“Delilah, honey? Are you okay?” A woman’s voice, worried and breathless, drifted through the night.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine,” Delilah called back. Henry could hear her voice break, and he thought she might be about to cry, but then she gripped the boulder and pulled herself upright.
From the edge of the cliff they heard “Oh, thank God! Hold on, honey, we’re coming.”
* * *
The rest of the night passed in a blur for Henry. After hours of eerie silence, the canyon erupted in a chaos of noise and activity. The search party consisted of Mr. Barker, Simon, Mrs. Dunworthy, Officer Myers, two other policemen, and two medics. Only the medics and the policemen climbed down into the canyon to retrieve Henry and Delilah. The others waited at the top, calling questions and encouragement. The two police dogs were tied to a tree, barking and lunging at the ends of their leads. Delilah tried to keep hold of Josie, but she turned stiff and furious and soon squirmed free, leaping into the night. Henry hated to see her go, but he felt oddly certain this time that she’d find her way home.
The medics brought a splint, a stretcher, and ropes. As they leaned over Delilah, checking her pulse and blood pressure, Officer Myers peppered Henry with questions—Why did they come up the mountain? How did they find the skulls? How long were they in the canyon? Did they see anything unusual?—and fixed him with a piercing stare each time he tried to answer. Simon had clearly told the police about the skulls, but Henry wasn’t sure what else, so he tried to answer carefully. He told about the gunshot and showed Officer Myers the chipped rock where the bullet had ricocheted. But though the policemen arced their flashlight beams across the canyon floor, kicking at stones and bushes, they were unable to find the bullet. What Henry didn’t mention, didn’t even hint at, was anything about the other bones … or the saddlebag … or the map.
As the medics crouched on either side of Delilah and stabilized her leg, Officer Myers said, “So that’s it? You two stayed in this area the whole time?”
“Yes,” Delilah answered promptly, giving Henry a quick, stern glance. “Here, Henry, take my backpack.” He understood that she was thinking the same thing he was: keep quiet about the rest of it.
“We were over here when we got shot at,” Henry said, pointing obligingly. “But after that, we just hid by those big rocks.” He gestured vaguely.
“And you didn’t see anyone or anything?”
Henry shook his head. “Nothing sinister,” he said.
“All right, then,” Officer Myers said gruffly. “We’ll file a report, but without the bullet, it’s going to be hard to apprehend anyone.”
Why does he seem so annoyed? Henry wondered. Probably because they’d come up the mountain, after his explicit warnings.
The medics managed to immobilize Delilah enough to carry her up the side of the canyon. The two other po
lice officers climbed to the ledge to collect the three skulls, with Simon directing them from above. Officer Myers held on to Henry, alternately lifting and pulling him up the slope.
Henry glanced back into the gorge twice, at its steep, twisted contours, dark as a pit. He couldn’t see the hidden canyon from here. What other surprises did the mountain hold? He gripped the strap of the backpack and thought of the map and the coins. As grateful as he was that he, Delilah, Simon, and Jack would soon be off the mountain, he knew in his heart they would all be coming back.
CHAPTER 28
HOME
AND THEN, SUDDENLY, everyone was together at the top of the cliff, in the dark chilly woods, ready to start for home. Mr. Barker greeted Henry with a bout of scolding and a bear-hug of relief. Simon grabbed his arm and whispered to him excitedly about the trek to get help. He and Jack lost their way twice and drank all the water, but they’d eventually found the path again and made it home. He’d promptly told Mr. and Mrs. Barker and the police about the skulls (“I had to, Hen! They kept asking why we went up the mountain, and we needed their help to bring the skulls back anyway.”). In the end, he’d been allowed to lead the search party to Henry and Delilah because even his thorough description of the canyon and the location of the ledge hadn’t been explicit enough to guide the police. Unfortunately, Jack, who’d begged repeatedly to be part of the rescue mission, had been required to stay home with Mrs. Barker. She insisted that she be left with at least one family member in the event that nobody returned.
Mrs. Dunworthy, wearing sneakers and flower-print pants and looking like she’d never hiked a mountain in her life, kept stroking Delilah’s hair and fussing over her hurt leg. The medics transferred Delilah to a stretcher, and with the two police dogs whining and straining ahead, the group started down the rough trail. It was a slow trip—the path dark and rock-strewn, the flashlights barely adequate, the medics taking extra care with the stretcher—but after a while, the slope changed, and Henry could see the houses of Superstition, lit up along the highway like beads on a necklace.
